And died, ere scarce exalted into birth, Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king: And Valisnerian lotus thither flown7 From struggling with the waters of the Rhone: And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante8! Isola d'oro!—Fior di Levante! And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever9 With Indian Cupid down the holy river— Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven:10 "Spirit! that dwellest where, In the deep sky, The terrible and fair, In beauty vie! Beyond the line of blue— The boundary of the star Which turneth at the view Of thy barrier and thy bar— Of the barrier overgone By the comets who were cast From their pride, and from their throne To be drudges till the last— To be carriers of fire (The red fire of their heart) With speed that may not tire And with pain that shall not part— Who livest—that we know— In Eternity—we feel— But the shadow of whose brow What spirit shall reveal? Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace, Thy messenger hath known Have dream'd for thy Infinity A model of their own11— Thy will is done, O God! The star hath ridden high Thro' many a tempest, but she rode Beneath thy burning eye; And here, in thought, to thee— In thought that can alone Ascend thy empire and so be A partner of thy throne— By winged Fantasy12, My embassy is given, Till secrecy shall knowledge be In the environs of Heaven. She ceas'd—and buried then her burning cheek Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek A shelter from the fervor of His eye; For the stars trembled at the Deity. She stirr'd not—breath'd not—for a voice was there How solemnly pervading the calm air! A sound of silence on the startled ear Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere." Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call "Silence"—which is the merest word of all. All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things Flap shadowy sounds from the visionary wings— But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high The eternal voice of God is passing by, And the red winds are withering in the sky! "What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run13, Link'd to a little system, and one sun— Where all my love is folly, and the crowd Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud, The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath (Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?) What tho' in worlds which own a single sun The sands of time grow dimmer as they run, Yet thine is my resplendency, so given To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven. Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly, With all thy train, athwart the moony sky— Apart—like fire-flies in Sicilian night14, And wing to other worlds another light! Divulge the secrets of thy embassy To the proud orbs that twinkle—and so be To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!" Up rose the maiden in the yellow night, The single-mooned eve!-on earth we plight Our faith to one love—and one moon adore— The birth-place of young Beauty had no more. As sprang that yellow star from downy hours, Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers, And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain Her way—but left not yet her Therasæan reign15.
II
High on a mountain of enamell'd head—
Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees
With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"
What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven—
Of rosy head, that towering far away
Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray
Of sunken suns at eve—at noon of night,
While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light—
Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,
Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall16 Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall Of their own dissolution, while they die— Adorning then the dwellings of the sky. A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down, Sat gently on these columns as a crown— A window of one circular diamond, there, Look'd out above into the purple air And rays from God shot down that meteor chain And hallow'd all the beauty twice again, Save when, between th' Empyrean and that ring, Some eager spirit flapp'd his dusky wing. But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen The dimness of this world: that grayish green That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave— And every sculptured cherub thereabout That from his marble dwelling peered out, Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche— Achaian statues in a world so rich? Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis17— From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss Of beautiful Gomorrah! Oh, the wave18 Is now upon thee—but too late to save! Sound loves to revel in a summer night: Witness the murmur of the gray twilight That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco19, Of many a wild star-gazer long ago— That stealeth ever on the ear of him Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim, And sees the darkness coming as a cloud— Is not its form—its voice—most palpable and loud?20 But what is this?—it cometh—and it brings A music with it—'tis the rush of wings— A pause—and then a sweeping, falling strain, And Nesace is in her halls again. From the wild energy of wanton haste Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart; The zone that clung around her gentle waist Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart. Within the centre of that hall to breathe She paus'd and panted, Zanthe! all beneath, The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there! Young flowers were whispering in melody21 To happy flowers that night—and tree to tree; Fountains were gushing music as they fell In many a star-lit grove, or moon-light dell; Yet silence came upon material things— Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings— And sound alone that from the spirit sprang Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang: "Neath blue-bell or streamer— Or tufted wild spray That keeps, from the dreamer, The moonbeam away—22 Bright beings! that ponder, With half-closing eyes, On the stars which your wonder Hath drawn from the skies, Till they glance thro' the shade, and Come down to your brow Like—eyes of the maiden Who calls on you now— Arise! from your dreaming In violet bowers, To duty beseeming These star-litten hours— And shake from your tresses Encumber'd with dew The breath of those kisses That cumber them too— (O! how, without you, Love! Could angels be blest?) Those kisses of true love That lull'd ye to rest! Up! shake from your wing Each hindering thing: The dew of the night— It would weigh down your flight; And true love caresses— O! leave them apart! They are light on the tresses, But lead on the heart. Ligeia! Ligeia! My beautiful one! Whose harshest idea Will to melody run, O! is it thy will On the breezes to toss? Or, capriciously still,
